


Can You Rock And Roll?

by buckybuchanen



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bartender Bucky, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Musician Bucky Barnes, Musician Steve, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, i honestly wrote this for my own amusement, stucky au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybuchanen/pseuds/buckybuchanen
Summary: “Look, the concert’s in two weeks, I need a bassist and you’re a bassist. Nat tells me you're good, so does Sam, I'm fucking desperate and apparently you had a band. I poured my heart and soul into this band and I won't let one fuck-up ruin it for me. Now, can you play this show with us or not?” Steve got it all out so fast, Bucky wasn't sure if Steve even breathed.  “Uh, sure—” “Okay, good. If you fuck this up for me, I swear I'll hunt you down.” -Or, alternatively, Steve puts blood, sweat and tears into his band, only for it to go south. Bucky the Bartender is there to save the day. Hopefully.Based off a tumblr post: “my guitarist quit the night before the gig that could mean the big break for a band that i have put my soul into and supposedly you’re really good but i swear to god if you screw this up for me i will hunt you down and slit your throat” au except with slight (a lot of) modifications.





	1. Bucky Barnes Is A Sad Boy.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly wrote this for my own amusement. I had the idea in the summer and then I decided to write it. Hopefully you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Just a few tips: Bucky's band is inspired by one of my favourite bands, The Brobecks. Steve's band is inspired by Weezer.
> 
> This work is unbeta'd! So sorry for any mistakes.

Bucky Barnes was _not_ having a good day.  

He was standing behind the bar he worked at, Rocco’s, fake smile plastered on his face as he took an order from a patron. He was beyond exhausted, the fatigue seeped into his bones, and his head wouldn’t stop pounding. The live band playing wasn’t helping, what with the lead singer coughing with every verse he sang.  

Bucky enjoyed the little things in life; like peace and quiet, paying off his student debt (freedom… so close), hanging out with Natasha, going for a walk (and knitting, but he’ll never admit to it). Bartending, on the other hand, was his job. And he was one of those unfortunate people he never imagined himself to be. The ones who _hated_ their job. However, he was good at it, and it payed the bills, and so there he was. At Rocco’s. Making drinks for hipsters, people who’d never heard of a good drink in their life, and guys in suits.  

Bucky was not a total asshole, though. Nor was he a complete pessimist. He liked his job sometimes, the band was usually much better than they were that night, and he didn’t usually have to fake his smile.  

Life was just not in his favor that day.  

That morning, his coffee maker wasn’t working. He had to go to the doctor’s (fucking waste of time and money), he had to get a new coffee maker (not a waste of time _or_ money), and Natasha practically begged on her hands and knees for him to take her shift.  

“Come on, James,” she’d said on the phone as he was picking out the best cheap coffee maker in Wal-Mart, “I’ll make it up to you, just take this one shift? Clint’s like hell-bent on taking me out tonight. I don’t know what he wants and I wanna find out, so please.”  

She’d used his first name, so he knew this was a big deal. He remembered how he wanted to say no, wanted to hang up and think about what he was having for dinner— _pizza? No, maybe he’d make some pasta_ —in his own home. Not working. Not in the bar.  

But there he was, standing behind the bar, itching for a cup of coffee or for a chance to go on Twitter.  

In Bucky's teen years, he thought he'd be in the same place as he was right now.   

Except, instead of being behind the bar, he'd be at the front standing on the small stage, and instead of a towel in his hand, he'd be holding his bass, and instead of being surrounded by a bunch of drunkards, he'd be surrounded by his band members.   

There he was though. Staring at a pair of drunk men, eyes bloodshot and swaying on the barstools like a bunch of idiots. His head pounded with each time they talked (if he can even call it that, they were practically shouting), and he wondered why the fuck did he even become a bartender in the first place.   

This was just a bad day, though. Normally, he enjoyed his shifts. He liked socializing with people, and he was getting paid to make drinks and be at the party. He could drink if he wanted to, and sometimes some customers treated him like a human being and not a drink dispenser.   

Since this wasn't even his shift, he tried to distract himself from snapping. He'd made a promise to take over, so there he was now, standing, wiping the counter and thinking about the Tylenol he was going to bless himself with when he got home.   

The patron laughed loudly and he watched as the guy's friend got up, clapped him on the back and walked over to a random woman across the bar.  

Bucky suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He used to be like this, too, before he got the job two years ago, when he actually went to bars for pleasure. He'd see a pretty girl or a handsome guy and make his way over, drink in hand and smile in place.   

Now, he always had to smile (which was fine) and the only times he had a drink in his hand was when he was handing them out to customers.   

He tapped his fingers on the bar along to the beat of the band playing. They were originally the Thursday band, playing from nine till closing time. Nowadays, they got more time slots ever since the other band stopped playing. They played Thursdays and some weekends, and they weren't so bad. The lead singer was this small guy, barely five-foot and a half. His hair was always a blond mess, and he didn't play an instrument but he could _sing_. Their songs were alternative, probably Weezer-inspired, and he'd just stand there and sing those lyrics while tilting the mic stand down since it was always too tall. There was also the lead guitarist, a guy who looked so into the music, jumping up and down and strumming so hard Bucky wondered if he ever bled from that. He reminded him of Wanda.  

And there was the drummer. This guy with the sharpest, weirdest beard Bucky's ever seen with his own two eyes, but it worked somehow? And he played with this huge grin and he'd shout along, and Bucky was impressed with this guy.  

The rhythm guitarist was a tall man (well, everyone looked tall next to Blondie) with curly hair and he always wore button-ups, for reasons unbeknownst to Bucky. He always smiled while he played, looking like he enjoyed being on stage, and let the singer mess with his hair in between songs.   

However, the bassist stuck out like a sore thumb. The man played on the side, head down, unsmiling. He seemed to get along just fine with everybody else but whenever Bucky watched the band pack up, he'd be arguing with the lead singer, or walking off before anyone can say anything.   

Bucky watched them play and recognized the song. It was a cover, but the singer was sick and kept coughing himself hoarse after every verse. It was tragic.   

A woman came to the bar halfway through the sad cover and Bucky smiled up at her.   

"Can I get a Gin and Tonic?" She asked, resting her arms on the bar and giving him a big smile.   

He smiled back, making sure to smile with his eyes and look genuine, and nodded, "coming right up."   

As he made the drink, he listened to the poor singer sneeze into the microphone and Bucky smothered a laugh by coughing into his sleeve.   

"Looks like some bug's going around," she commented. He shrugged with a grin and handed her the drink.   

She smiled and thanked him and turned around. However, as she walked away, the drunk guy from earlier yelled at her, "hey, sweetie, want a drink?!"   

She only frowned at him distastefully and walked back to her friends, leaving him to yell after her, "come on, don't be like that!"  

Bucky'd had enough at that point.   

“Alright, buddy, either you sober up or get out,” Bucky said, dropping the towel on the bar.    
The man was so drunk; Bucky didn’t think the guy was even listening to him. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead, he was a sweaty mess, and all he did was laugh at Bucky’s threat. Bucky was used to this, though. You work as a bartender for a year, you get all kinds of customers. The man’s tips were lousy, though, and Bucky was really considering cutting him off. He really hoped this guy didn't drive here.  

Just because Bucky couldn't stand him anymore, that didn’t mean he completely disregarded the patron’s safety.  

At that point, the guy was shouting nonsense, yelling at the other customers, and he didn’t even tip well enough for Bucky to tolerate him. This guy had to go.  

He looked around the bar, trying to catch Chris' eye. Chris was buff, like 200 pounds of pure muscle. 

Drunk Guy wouldn't stand a chance.  

Except, this clearly wasn't Bucky's day. He couldn't find Chris, the band playing would drown him out if he tried to yell for Chris, and worst of all, the guy in front of him looked about ready to climb the table.  

He took a deep, calming breath and got himself psyched up to throw this man out himself.  

"Okay, man, get up," Bucky snapped at the patron. Normally, he'd try to be more professional, but this guy was in the process of— _SMACK._   

Veronica, one of the servers, stood, scandalized, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment as she looked at the patron.   

"Alright, that's it!" And with that, he grabbed the customer by the collar, walked him over to the door and tossed him out, ignoring the guy’s protests and didn’t give two shits about his safety.  

To his luck, Chris had walked over just at that moment, a stupid smirk on his face as he watched Bucky rub circles on his temples.  

"Rough day, James?" Chris questioned with a sly smile.  

"You! You don't get to talk to me for the next two minutes. I think committing homicide's a one-way ticket to getting fired."  

Chris only laughed and ruffled Bucky's hair.  

“Quit laughing and find out where that guy lives and get him a cab!” 

 _Just another half hour._  

**  

The half an hour came and went. He wiped the counter and locked the register, while Chris directed people outside with the other security guys.   

When he was done, he watched as the band cleaned up after themselves.   

The sick one of them, the singer, looked truly awful, using his sleeve as a tissue while one of the guitarists talked to him. The drummer was laughing with the other guitarist while the bassist packed away his things.  

Bucky frowned, looked around for the napkins and grabbed a few. Blondie’s shirt looked way too nice to be used like a tissue, plus it was kind of gross.  

People were gone at this point. The last few annoying patrons left when Bucky kicked out that drunk bastard, and the rest were kicked out by Chris.  

He missed his bed so much.  

He poured himself a drink of water and walked over to the band.  

They were in the middle of huge group conversation that halted abruptly when Bucky walked over. He was sure he looked like absolute shit, he could _feel_ the bags under his eyes. His short hair was normally styled, but he ran his hands through it so much it was sticking out at every angle, and he'd spilled a margarita all over his shirt around two hours ago.   

“Hey, man!” The drummer yelled with a sly grin, “you got any free drinks for us?”  

Bucky pursed his lips to fight off a smile.  

“Nah, but I got you these.”  

He held up the napkins and watched as the blond’s face lit up. The rest of the band were confused, what the fuck kind of gift? But they watched as their band member gratefully took the napkins and blew his nose hard into one of them.  

“Th-thanks, man. I owe you one.” The singer rasped, rubbing his throat as he spoke. He breathed in harshly to inhale some of the snot and Bucky fought off a grimace.   

“No biggie. Catch ya later, guys. Goodnight."  He said and headed out.  

"Goodnight!"  They all called out after him.    
**  

“C’mon, Nat, I wanna watch the new episode already!” Bucky shouted, waiting for Natasha to come out of the kitchen.  

“It’s on Netflix, you can wait!” She yelled back and he sighed, wanting so badly to press play.   
He couldn't do that, though, Natasha would kill him faster than it took for the beginning credits to start rolling.  

Natasha was one of his only true friends. She had his back, and he had hers. She was one of the other bartenders that worked at Rocco’s, and she was the one that got him the job in the first place.  

It was two years ago. He was a server who wanted to get a promotion; she was an overworked bartender who needed a break. She’d taught him the ropes and he started taking some of her shifts, until they both finally went to the manager and Bucky begged for the job.  

And now, there he was, sitting on her couch in her small apartment. It was way closer to the bar than his place was, and he was too exhausted to go all the way home. He’d finished an early shift and he chose to crash at her place.   

They were used to this though. She’d given him a copy of her keys last year specifically for this reason, and he’d given her a copy of his.  

“Move over, Barnes, you’re hogging the couch,” she said, holding a bag of chips. He moved his legs and watched as she jumped onto her side of the couch and immediately offered him some chips.  

He took a few chips and popped them in his mouth, finally pressing play.  

Just as the beginning credits rolled in, Natasha spoke, making Bucky groan and pause the episode.  

“Why don’t you play at the bar like you used to? Come on, don’t you miss those days?”  

Bucky frowned and shifted in his seat, “I just don’t want to.”  

“Bullshit,” she rested her legs on his, “you love playing your bass. Remember that ramshackle band we had? We could do that again. You, me, Clint, Wanda—”  

“Did you forget the fact that we couldn’t get signed, Nat? Or that the only way we could get signed is if I left the band and got signed _without_ you guys?”  

She shrugged, as if that small tidbit of information wasn’t important, like it didn’t tear him apart, “I still think you should’ve done it. That still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t play at the bar, we should bring the band back together. Come on, don’t you want to?”  

Bucky only shook his head, grabbing the remote so he can press the play button, “No thanks, Nat.” 

She nodded once, grimly. The conversation was over.    
**  

They were both lying down on Natasha's bed, a week after their initial discussion.    

She thought he shouldn't be subjected to the couch anymore, the same time they traded key copies.  

 _It's super uncomfortable, Bucky,_ she'd said, _you can feel the springs dig into your back, and you're too young for a chiropractor, you'll sleep on the bed and_ nothing's _gonna happen between us._   

Nothing ever did, they'd just lie down, and sometimes they'd cuddle. She had a thing for playing with his hair, so as he went on his phone checking Twitter, she was threading her fingers through his short, brown hair.   

He didn’t mind, actually it was one of his favorite things. He’d had a long day of classes and work, and he had an essay to finish. Lying there, though, in Nat’s arms, after a long day, made him feel like he didn’t have any responsibilities.  

He scrolled through his feed and groaned when he heard Natasha’s next words.  

"I still think you should play at the bar—" She started. 

"Natasha, _stop_ —"  

"No, James, listen to me," she huffed. She stopped playing with his hair until she knew for certain that he wasn't going to say anything more.   

"Look, Bucky. I know you're talented," She continued.  

"You're talented, too." He interjected.  

"I know that. But, playing isn't that important for me. I'm almost done my Biochem degree, and I know what I want to do after it. I actually like bartending—no, I know you don't enjoy it, stop bullshitting me—and if I don't have to play again, then I won't care. But it clearly matters to you."   

He frowned and moved even closer, tilting his head closer to his hand so she can play with his hair some more. She continued to thread her fingers through his hair as she spoke.   

"We need different musicians playing. We can't have the same three bands playing over and over, especially when one of them sucks so bad, my ears almost bleed. Besides,” she nudged him in the shoulder, “your bass is too pretty to collect dust.” 

 _I guess,_ he thought. He didn't say anything.    

He sighed and lay still. She took out her phone and went on it, still hugging him close. 

Did he really want to play? Yes. Yeah, of course he did. He’d missed it, missed singing songs to a crowd with things he wanted to say, and if he was lucky, people would sing back. This was back when they played at venues, not bars, when they had a following and he had a bandcamp account set up, and a Soundcloud, and they were on fucking _Spotify_ and iTunes. 

He went on YouTube and googled his band, Winter Soldier, and clicked on the first video. It was one of their most popular songs, and God, he remembered playing it. His eyebrows shot up at the amount of hits. For a popular song, it was surprisingly morbid but people liked it. 

He scrolled to the bottom to look at the comments. 

 ** _Star_Lord666: what happened to this band, they were so good???_**  

 ** _In reply to Star_Lord666, Spider_Parker: I fuckin know right!! Don’t know how they didn’t get signed_**  

He grinned and ducked his head away, trying not to blush. 

 ** _Kickven0m: does anyone know where I can get their album from?_**  

 ** _In reply to kickven0m, Spider_Parker: you can only get a copy online :/ they only sold them at shows I was lucky enough to snag a physical copy. U can go to their bandcamp tho, Bucky Barnes the lead singer posted some songs u can actually buy there. There’s also iTunes #plssupportthisband #buckybarnesreleaseurfuckinalbumPLEASE_**  

“Convinced yet?” 

He jumped and looked up to see Natasha grinning down at him. 

“This changes nothing.” 

“Suit yourself…” 

** 

It was his actual shift at the bar.  

He was standing, towel flung over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was only eight, so not a lot of patrons showed up yet, but _the_ band was there. The five of them stood there, tuning their instruments and talking. Or, at least, it seemed like they were talking.  

The shortest one, the blond one, looked as annoyed as always. He stood there, face pinched into a scowl. Another guy, the bassist, was frowning as well. The rest of the band looked awkward, off to the side, trying to get it together. Their show was in an hour, and Bucky had heard the set thousands of times before, but they were never like this. Sure, the blond one and Mr. Dark-and-Mysterious always looked like they were about to kick each other in the face, but never to the point where Blondie stood up, ignored the other guy's yelling and went straight for the bar.  

Bucky grabbed the towel off his shoulder and gave the bar another wipe so he can look busy, and not like he was staring at the group.  

"Hey," a voice said. He looked up and saw the blond guy from the band.  

Bucky smiled, throwing the towel over his shoulder and pushing his hair back, "hey, there. Can I get ya anything?"  

The guy nodded and sat on the barstool, "yeah, can I get a Coke, please?"  

Bucky nodded and turned around to get the drink from the fridge. He shoveled some ice into a cup and passed both of them over, watching as the guy smiled gratefully and cracked open the can.  

Bucky watched as the guy drank straight out of the can, ignoring the cup of ice. He smiled to himself and rested on the bar, waiting until the guy left so he can just stand there, bored, till the end of his shift. Or maybe he can take out his computer and work on his paper…  

"My guitarist's driving me insane."  

"Oh?" Bucky queried, "What's up with him?"  

He found it amusing, this whole setup. He had a lot of customers that would just ramble on aimlessly about life's troubles, but it still baffled him that people told him anything. The guy two stools over just told him about his impending divorce, and now Blondie's telling him about his shit guitarist.  

Bucky watched as Blondie opted to pour some coke into the glass. After a sip, he laughed humorlessly.  

"Creative differences. I think we should go one way, he thinks we should go another, and the rest of the band's not as into this as we are so they don't really care either way."  

Bucky pursed his lips, "Tough luck, buddy."  

"Tell me about it. Anyway, I can hear him talking shit, so I gotta head back." He dug into his pocket and pulled out loose change. He sifted through it for a few seconds and handed some to Bucky, "Thanks for the coke, man."  

"No biggie."  

** 

He was in his apartment, cooking something so he can eat it while watching TV.  

His days were kind of miserable nowadays. He went out with a couple of people from classes sometimes, and he visited his mother a week ago.  

Aside from work, all he did was _nothing_.  

It was incredibly boring and depressing. He’d started taking his anti-depressants again, and God, did he want to just lie down and not leave the house for the next few weeks. He couldn’t, though. So, he went ahead and cooked the rice, probably flavorless because he always forgot to season, and thought about what he could watch while Arcade Fire played on his shitty CD player.  

A loud knock snapped him back into reality. He quickly turned off the stove and ran to the door, peeking through the peephole. His eyes practically bugged out of his skull as he opened the door and yelled.  

“ _Clint?!”_  

Clint Barton, one of his closest friends who he didn’t see often ever since they disbanded, was standing next to a smiling Nat. She had her arm wrapped around his shoulders, and they both looked so good, while he felt incredibly underdressed in a threadbare grey t-shirt and Batman boxers.  

“Uh, come in, uh—oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here! Sorry for the mess, you can sit on my couch? I made rice!” 

“Whoa, whoa, Buck, calm down or I’ll turn my hearing aids off, I’m just Clint not the fucking Queen,” Clint laughed as he walked inside with Nat.  

“Nice boxers, Barnes,” she commented as she walked by.  

He stuck out his tongue but she didn’t notice. He ran to the kitchen, put some rice in a bowl and tested it to see if he should bring some for his guests, and chose not to when he grimaced.  

How he survived the past few years on his own, he didn’t know.  

He walked back to the living room and sat on the armchair and watched as the two argued on what to watch on Netflix. He wanted to watch the X-Files but he clearly had no say when Clint stole the PS3 controller and picked Friends, which was like… _really?_   

He slowly ate from his rice and continued to stare at Clint while he talked to Natasha. Eventually he couldn’t contain himself anymore, put the rice on the counter and threw himself at Clint, “I just missed you so much!”  

“Whoop, there he is! I missed you, too, buddy,” Clint chuckled as he patted Bucky on the back, “you’re kind of squishing Nat, there, yup.” 

He let go of Clint and grinned real hard, “I’ll be right back. If we’re watching Friends I need something to take my mind off the pain.”  

He walked to his room just as Clint yelled, “You love Friends and you know it!”  

“I don’t!”  

He grabbed his knitting stuff (please, don’t judge him) and walked back to the living room, sitting on the couch with them. Clint slipped Natasha a five-dollar bill while he scowled. Bucky raised an eyebrow as he knitted his blue scarf, demanding answers silently.  

“What? I told Clint you knit and he didn’t believe me.”  

“Is me knitting such a surprise for you, Clinton?”  

“What? No, I thought you were like,” Clint waved his hand around, “more into crochet.”  

“Very funny.”  

** 

He was walking to the bar.  

He’d just gotten off the Subway and had a near-death experience when a cab almost slammed into his left as he crossed the street.  

His backpack was slung over his shoulder and he could see the bar’s neon sign from the distance. God, how he wanted to just call in sick. He couldn’t, he had bills to pay and he needed to be an adult.  

His hands were freezing and he needed to go inside as fast as possible. He blew hot air into his palms and walked quickly to the bar, sidestepping bustling tourists and locals. He was almost at the bar, when he knocked into someone hard.  

“Jeez, I’m so sorry,” the other person started saying, and then they went off into a stream of apologies. Bucky blinked hard, rubbing at the bruise forming on his arm and quickly tried to calm the other person down, “hey, it’s cool.”  

He blinked again once he realized it was one of the guitarists from the Thursday band. The one who looked like was about to kick everyone’s ass as he played.  

“Oh, hey, there. You’re the bartender, hi! How’re you doing?” The guy greeted him with so much warmth, Bucky had to think real hard if they’d met before.  

“Uh, yeah. Hi. You’re the guy from the band, right? Guitar?”  

“Yeah, that’s me! Probably guessed from the instrument case in my hand, huh?”  

Actually, Bucky didn’t notice it. He didn’t want to seem like an idiot, though, since that was clearly the reason why he had a purple bruise forming on his arm, so he nodded with a small smile.  

“I was walkin’ over to the bar, you headed over there, too?” The guitarist asked, gesturing at the bar he wanted so desperately to leave right now.  

Bucky nodded, “yeah, it’s my shift.” 

“Wanna walk together?”  

Bucky’s smile widened, “sure, why not. Bucky, by the way.”  

They started walking towards the bar, Bucky back to blowing hot hair in his hands while Sam lugged the giant case around.  

“Sam Wilson. I’m real sorry about hitting you with my case. Are you good?”  

Bucky decided not to tell the guitarist—Sam—that he might need ice, so he simply smiled again, “yeah, I’m fine. Now let’s start moving, I’m freezing my ass off in this weather.” 

“You and me both, bud.”  

** 

It wasn’t busy since it was a Sunday night. People usually stayed at home because no one wanted to nurse a hangover on a Monday. 

It was getting incredibly cold outside, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen a bit of snow on some people’s jackets as they walked in. Bucky was glad he was inside, and that he didn’t have class tomorrow so he can go back and _sleep_. God bless his schedule this semester, since he gave himself Mondays off.  

He’d already done some of his course work and since it wasn’t busy, he had one of his textbooks out. The manager didn’t mind as long as he did his job, which he did. And he’d rather have the English degree he wanted than be a bartender forever.  

He looked up from his textbook and noticed a patron walking over. Bucky straightened up and flashed his best, charming smile. He was in a good mood, and if he smiled and chatted, he’d get a tip. 

More money, less debt, everyone’s happy. 

“Hey, there,” the patron said with a small smile. His tie was loose and he’d just walked from a group of men dressed in suits all drinking the same thing. The guy looked like he was straight out of GQ Magazine.  

 _Let me guess. A margarita._  

“Can I get a margarita?” 

 _Nice._  

“Sure, comin’ right up, sir. Your tie is great, by the way.” Bucky knew the tie probably cost more than a week’s earnings, but he didn’t mention that. He was hoping some of the man’s earnings would make their way into his own pocket, though.  

The customer grinned, his eyes looking down and he shifted his weight from one foot to another. 

“Thank you.” 

Bucky grinned and started working on the drink, watching from the corner of his eye as the man fiddled with his tie and brushed his hair back with his right hand. 

“Kind of weird how a bunch of professional folks like you are at the bar today, don’t you guys have work tomorrow? Not that I mind, of course.” Bucky joked as he poured the drink. 

“Long week, and they really wanted to have a drink before they go home. You know, from the way they’re talking, it’s like they each married Satan or something.” 

Bucky snorted, “yeah, I’ll never get straight men. Especially the married ones.” 

The guy made a weird choking noise that made Bucky want to burst out laughing. Instead, he passed the drink over and waited for the man to pay. It was a credit card transaction, and he was filled with glee when he noticed the good trip.  

“Uh, here you go. Thanks for the drink.” 

“Anytime,” he replied, winking for the hell of it.  

He watched as the man grabbed the drink and walked away, looking back a couple of times with blush on his cheeks and when he was out of earshot, Bucky turned around and laughed really hard, hiding his face behind his hands. 

“You know, that’s quite of an asshole move. He could’ve been into you.” 

Bucky jumped and turned around, only to see the lead singer from the band. 

“Don’t you have a set to go through?” 

“Took a break. Can I please get a Coke?” 

“Please? That’s the first time I heard it all day, thank you for saying that,” Bucky said as he took a coke out of the fridge and passed it over to the singer, watching as he snapped the top open and took a huge drink. 

“You feelin’ any better? You had a cough yesterday, again.” He asked as the guy gave him some change. 

“Yeah. It’s this cold, I fuckin’ hate the winter, but what can you do? At least now I can play a song without needing my inhaler and a new lung.” 

Bucky laughed and grabbed a ginger ale for himself, pouring some of it into a cup with ice. 

“So, I like your songs, the guitarist makes me feel like I’m at a concert at some shitty venue rather than a bar with a bunch o’ suits.” Bucky commented and took a sip from his drink. He was interested in the band, and really, he wanted to know more. 

“Oh, Sam? Yeah, Sam’s a natural. He loves performing, I mean he’s done some damage. He kicked me once accidentally when we were opening for a band and I went straight into the crowd. And one time he hit Brock with his guitar, but we don’t really talk about that. I’m glad you like our songs! Like, you get to listen to ‘em all the time, it’d be cool if you liked them, you get me?” 

Bucky laughed, “yeah, yeah. You guys been together for long?” 

Steve frowned and counted on his fingers, “well… technically, we’ve been together for... four years. But really, we’ve been together for three, we keep having troubles so we take a break. Also, there’s school. That kinda sucks, because like I want a degree, yeah, but I also want the band to take off.” 

Bucky smiled sadly and brushed a hand through his hair, “yeah, I get it.” 

“Yeah.” Steve replied, smiling. He was about to say more when the drummer yelled, “yo, Steve, get your skinny ass over here!” 

The singer—Steve—got up and flashed Bucky a small smile, “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

“Bye, _Stevie_.” Bucky teased, then took another sip from his drink. 

“Bye, Bucky.” 

Bucky almost choked on his drink and watched as Steve ran back to his band. He was confused as to how the fuck Steve knew his name until he remembered he was wearing a nametag. 

** 

He was lying down on his bed, bass in hand. The instrument was a gift for himself when he was fifteen, bought with money he’d worked hard for. He just sat there idly, fingers playing meaningless chords.  

He remembered his old band, The Winter Soldier. The band he’d worked so hard for, putting blood, sweat and tears into it.  

It was the four of them. Wanda from his history class, Clint from all the way back in high school and Natasha. Wanda was the rhythm guitarist, and she’d put so much heart and soul into playing. He remembered how she’d jump around, standing on top of an amp and doing a fucking backbend or falling in the middle of the song, while still playing. She’d have a shit ton of bruises, but she’d still do it all with a grin on her face.  

And there was Clint, the drummer and backup singer. Clint, with his hearing aids turned down so low, he’d barely hear the crowd. He was the one who’d encourage them all to let loose, to party after the show and he’d encourage Bucky to write more songs. He was the reason they even played so much, the guy loved playing in front of a crowd and he wanted to do it every day.  

Natasha was the lead guitarist. She’d play with a small smile on her face, but she’d stay in place, barely moving. She’d smile at Bucky sometimes, send him knowing smiles because of the lyrical content, and he’d grin back as he sang back.  

He was the bassist and the singer. He wrote the songs and sang his heart out. Singing songs so morbid, so depressing, but he’d do it with a smile that it would be confusing if someone focused on the lyrics.  

They were great together. They played like a unit, but it was all over before it even really began for them.  

If he’d agreed with the record label, he’d left the other three by now and he’d be releasing his own music for a major audience.  

But he wasn’t selfish enough to do that. He couldn’t do that.  

So, there he was. He was playing random chords, lying in bed, thinking about what could’ve been and trying to regret, but he couldn’t.  

His phone started ringing, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

He stood up and put the bass aside and reached for the phone on the nightstand. He glanced at the Caller ID and saw that it was Rocco’s. He frowned and answered, “Hello?” 

“Bucky, hey.” 

“ _Natasha?_ Why are you calling me from the bar?” He asked, perplexed. She sounded like she was speaking quietly into the phone and he struggled to hear her next words. 

“The band, they’re fighting. The bassist left in the middle of their set and no one’s playing anything, and if we don’t get any music, then that’s a problem.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “A problem how exactly? Just hook up your phone to the speakers and play something off Spotify—” 

“No! We promised a live band, Bucky, that’s literally our thing.” 

“So, what do you want me to do about it?” 

She stayed quiet for a few seconds. He had to check if she’d hung up, “Um, Nat?” 

“Bucky. Can you please sub in for them today? Just today?” 

“No.” 

“Please! What if David comes in and sees this? Just get your acoustic guitar and you can do an acoustic set, just come on! What’s the worst that can happen?” 

He stayed quiet. 

“Come on, Bucky. Do it for the bar?” 

“You’re gonna have to try better than that.” 

“Do it for me!” She pleaded into the phone.  

He screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

It was just one show. He can do it; it’d be just one show. He’d even get some extra cash from it. Besides, Natasha did so much for him and if this is really all she’s asking, then… 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll be there in a few.” 

“Thank you, Buck, you can crash at my place tonight and we can watch CSI!” 

“I can’t wait.” He laughed, half-joking.

He regretted it already. 


	2. Steve, You Sweet Summer Child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd! Hope you guys like this.

True to her word, the band _was_ gone. At least, it seemed like it. He couldn’t find them anywhere, not in the booths around the walls, or the tables in the middle of the place or on any of the barstools. He walked towards the small stage at the front, already equipped for a live set and was grateful that there was a stool so at least he can be sitting.  

He sat on the stool on the makeshift stage, acoustic guitar balanced on his knee. He hadn’t performed in so fucking long… 

This crowd knew nothing about him, though. They wouldn’t judge him; they’d just listen to his songs disinterestedly. He was going to be fine. 

He looked at the bar and saw Nat give him a thumbs up and he looked away. 

Everything was going to be _fine_. 

After bringing the mic down and making sure everything was in order, he started to play one of his earlier songs. At first, it was uncomfortable. He felt like he belonged back behind the bar, he’d stopped doing _this_ a long time ago. After a while, however, it got easier. He sang, feeling at ease, and eventually he started doing covers.  

This was fun. He liked this. He liked it _a lot_. 

He would’ve liked it a lot better, though, with his bass and his band around him.  

Bucky’s mind went back to performing at the venues, singing until his voice threatened to stop working and his fingertips were dotted with blood. He would stay after the show with the others and talk to their… fans? He guessed they were fans. It was just so surreal. 

After an hour and a half of playing, he decided to take a break. 

He stood up and left the acoustic resting on the stool, finally stretching his legs. He walked over to the bar, feeling seriously weirded out that he was a performer and now a customer. 

“So, was that so hard?” Natasha said when she saw him, smirking. 

He smiled sheepishly and looked away, “okay. You weren’t _wrong_.” 

“So, I was right,” she added as she handed him a glass of cold water. 

He frowned at her for a second but then broke into a grin, “yeah. You were.” 

He sat on the barstool and drank the water while she went to serve a group that just came in. Someone sat down next to him and he only turned around when he heard his name being spoken, almost choking on his drink from shock. 

“Hey, Bucky.” 

“Steve!” 

Steve looked more glum than normal. Usually, he’d always walk around with a stupid smile on his face, laughing, looking like he actually enjoyed himself. At that moment, however, he looked far from that. The only times Bucky actually saw him pissed off, he was around that bassist.  

He had the air of someone who just got into an argument, a big one. He looked so fatigued. His eyes were looking anywhere but at Bucky, and he kept rubbing at them. He was slouched in his chair, head down and right leg bouncing up and down so fast it was actually irritating. 

“So… I heard about what happened with your band…” Bucky started to say. Steve cut him off with a humorless laugh. 

“Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it,” he replied with a tight smile. 

“Listen, do you need to talk about it?” 

Steve looked at him, finally, at that moment. His eyes were bloodshot and he had worry lines on his face. He stared at him for a few seconds and let out a sigh, “I don’t know. It’s just band issues. We’re gonna settle them, hopefully. Brock and I are just… different people. With different ideas.” He finally looked away and rested his head on his arms. 

_Man… poor guy._  

“Is Brock the bassist?” Bucky asked, changing his seating position so he can face Steve better. 

Steve’s head shot up and he looked at Bucky, open-mouthed, “do you really not know any of us?” 

Bucky shrugged, “I serve a couple hundred people a day and I just listen to you guys while I’m working. ‘Sides, it never came up. I don’t even really know your band’s name. I called you Blondie in my head until the guy with the weird beard called your name out that one time.” 

He watched as Steve laughed, which sounded so tired (but cute?)  and covered his eyes, “I’m dumping all my drama on you and you don’t even know any of us, so why do you even care?” 

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted, “did you forget I’m the bartender here? My job is basically listening to people dump their drama on me. I’m used to it, plus,” he leaned in, smile laced with mischief, “it’s fun.” 

Steve giggled—actually giggled—and Bucky felt like he did something to make him feel better. Steve wasn’t looking so down in the dumps anymore, and it made him feel useful. 

“Say, I think Nat won’t mind if I leave early. We can go for a walk and you can talk if you want.” 

Steve thought about it for a second. Eventually, a small smile appeared on his lips and he nodded, “Okay. That’d be nice.” 

** 

Natasha was pissed when she saw him pack up early. She couldn’t leave the bar to reprimand him, but he went to her instead, guitar in its bag and slung over his shoulder. Steve was already outside the bar, waiting for him to exit.  

“Come on, Nat, I already played for a few hours, lemme go.” 

She frowned and continued wiping the bar, using her fiery red hair as a way to shield her face. 

“I’ll get us pad Thai on my way home.” 

She froze. 

“Really?”  

He flashed a large grin, “yeah. Really.”  

She straightened and shot him a smile, “Fine, Barnes. Go.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he reached over the counter and pulled her into a hug and left a noisy kiss on her cheek, making her go, “Euch, you pig!” 

He quickly ran towards Steve before she can smack him. 

“You love me, though!” He called over his shoulder. 

“I’d sell you to Satan for a Dr. Pepper and you know it!” 

** 

They both walked silently at first. 

Steve kept his head down mostly, hands deep in his pockets. Bucky didn't push him to talk, he only kept walking. He had no idea where they were going but surprisingly he didn't mind. If it came down to it, he'd probably just circle back and go back to the bar, so they were fine.  

"Thanks for going on this walk with me." Steve spoke, looking up at Bucky. He bit his lip and looked away, "Not a lot of people would go on walks with a total stranger."  

Bucky shrugged with his right shoulder, "Eh, it's no big deal. It's nice. Different setting, too, usually I have people slumped on a stool and if I'm _really_ lucky, they'd start cryin'. Bit of a change going for a walk, though."  

Steve chuckled, "I bet. So, did you always want to be a bartender?”  

Bucky laughed a short laugh and shook his head, “Hell, no. But we’re not on this walk for me, we’re on this walk for you. So, tell me, what’s upsetting you?”  

He really didn’t want to force Steve to talk, but he didn’t want to talk about his flop of a music career. Of course he didn’t want to be a bartender, he’d do anything to trade spots with Steve.  

“I feel like I have to let you know who’s in the band in the first place.”  

Bucky nodded and spotted a Dunkin’ Donuts. He steered Steve towards it and said, “how about you tell me over there? My treat.” 

“You don’t have to…” 

“I want to. Come on.” 

** 

They were both sitting across from each other. Steve had taken off his scarf and was now sipping from a medium hot chocolate. Bucky was stirring some sugar into his tea and waited for Steve to say anything.  

He got too curious, though, and asked the first question that popped in his head, “So, what’s your band called?” 

Steve smiled a radiant smile, one that showed his teeth and was just full of pride, “We’re called the Avengers. It’s kind of a silly name, it was a joke that Sam came up with and it just… stuck.”  

“That’s cute! Do you guys have any albums out?” 

Steve perked up even more, if that was possible. He sat up straighter and closer, “yeah! One from like two years ago. There’s this one album we’re working on now—self-titled because we’re just cool like that, and we toured with it a few months ago. Now, we’re just going around bars and local venues to try and get a local audience.”  

Bucky grinned, feeling happy for Steve. He remembered being in this exact same position, “dude, that’s awesome.” 

“Thanks, I mean, yeah. Yeah. So, we’re trying to get a record deal, which I’m working on right now.”  

Bucky’s eyes shot up and he nodded, “clearly I should pay more attention to the music the next time I listen to you guys. Who knows, maybe this time next year you’ll be rich and famous and too good for my shitty bar.”  

Steve snorted out a laugh, which sounded so adorable that Bucky had to resist aweing, and covered his mouth with his hand. Bucky watched as Steve blushed from the praise and rested his face on his hand, “Don’t you think a year is too soon?”  

Bucky shrugged with his right shoulder, crossing his arms in front of him, “Hey, you never know. Maybe you and the guys will be like… on Alternative Press. Kerrang! Magazine’ll treat you the same way they treat Gerard Way. What if,” he leaned closer, “you go on the cover of Tiger-14, or J-Pop or whatever teen magazine exists out there.”  

Steve was laughing so hard right now, he had to hold onto his side. He reached over for a napkin, crumpled it up and threw it at Bucky’s head, “shut up, no way am I gonna be on J-14!”  

“I can imagine it! _Who Is Steve’s New Belle?_ Or, _Ten Reasons Why the Bassist is THE Baessist!”_  

“Stop! Wait till I tell the guys!” 

Bucky snorted, “Please, I don’t want my ass kicked _again_.”  

“Again?”  

“Yeah, last month, some drunk guy walked over and straight-up punched me in the face. Chris threw him out so fast, I thought I got hit so hard I hallucinated him.”  

Steve was giggling into his drink now. He took a sip and looked at Bucky with a slightly sympathetic look, “I don’t know if I should laugh or feel bad.”  

“Oh, no, you can laugh. Nat did for like a week.”  

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. Bucky returned the look and waited for Steve to say something.  

“Wait, Nat? As in… Natasha? Romanova?” 

“The one… and only?” Bucky was confused. It would make sense for Steve to know her first name but not her last name, their name tags did not show those.  

“Oh, man, I used to work with Nat. Back before she quit, I just didn’t know you two were friends, it’d make sense though, since, you know, you two work together.” Steve explained, speaking so fast Bucky had to strain his ears to listen.  

Bucky was even more confused now. They used to work together before _where_? Suddenly, it dawned on him. Bucky stared at Steve with, wide-eyed and an incredulous look on his face.  

“You work at Hot Topic?”  

Steve blushed, “Don’t judge me, pal. I went through a bit of a phase a few years ago, and now they keep asking me to be the manager—stop laughing!”  

Bucky was laughing so hard; no sound was coming out. His head was resting on his arms on the table as his shoulders shook so hard, it looked like he was _crying_. He eventually stopped and tried to sit up straighter, wiping away the tears in his eyes, “You’re Steve from Hot Topic, oh my God, I can’t… Natasha was like in love with you, oh my God…”  

“No, she wasn’t—quit it!”  

“I’m-I’m sorry, it’s just that, she was like… you were her emo goals, you know? I’d hear about you all the time, Emo Steve with the Band, I just never put two and two—” He dissolved into giggles again, making Steve throw another balled up napkin.  

“You’re an asshole, why am I talking to you?” Steve huffed, although he was still smiling. He drank from his hot chocolate and nodded, “So, yeah, I met Nat _at Hot Topic._ Anyway, I forgot what we were talking about, so, I’ll just tell you about the band.”  

Bucky nodded.  

“So, I’m the singer and also the song-writer. Sam’s rhythm guitar.” 

“Oh, I met Sam.” Bucky interjected.  

“You did?” Steve was confused.  

“Yeah, I was walking to work and we ran into each other, I have the bruise to prove it. He seems like a really cool guy.” 

“He is, I met him on Tinder.”  

Bucky stared at Steve for a few seconds, waiting for Steve to say it was a joke. Steve only shrugged and that made Bucky dissolve into giggles again.  

“Hey, shut up, Tinder’s an awesome app,”  

“Okay, sure buddy.” 

Steve made a face at Bucky and continued, “Anyway, where was I… Oh! Bruce is the lead guitar.” 

“Dude with the curly hair?” 

“Dude with the curly hair. And there’s… Tony Stark on the drums.” 

“Dude with the really weird beard—wait, did you say Tony Stark? Like _the_ Tony Stark? With the rich dad?” 

“The one and only.” 

Bucky stared at Steve, mouth wide open. He remembered his manners and clamped it shut. He waited for Steve to yell, _“Gotcha!”_ or Ashton Kutcher to pop out of a trashcan and yell, _“You’ve been punk’d!”_  

That never happened and Bucky immediately took out his phone and Googled Tony Stark, his mouth hanging wide open once more. He stared at Tony Stark’s Wikipedia page (Wikipedia!), made a weird panicked noise and slapped his forehead.  

“I called Tony Stark’s beard _weird?_ The man can buy me and sell me in a heartbeat and I called his beard… weird. Uh, it was nice knowing you. This is literally the worst thing to ever happen to me.”  

Steve was back to laughing at him, and he immediately patted Bucky’s arm, “don’t worry, my lips are sealed. Anywho, so, I said me, Sam, Tony, Bruce… and there’s also Brock.”  

“Yeah.” Steve’s demeanor immediately changed. He sat there and bit his lip.  

“What happened?” Bucky eventually asked. He was concerned, did they get into some fight? 

“Brock was… great. At first. Like, we would write songs together. Except, we kind of changed our sound the last time we got together.” 

“As all bands should.” 

“Exactly. But like, he didn’t like that. Uh, we used to be like… emo? I guess? Not really, no. Just very angsty. Like, have you listened to Weezer’s Pinkerton?”  

“A couple of times. I’m more into the Blue Album.”  

“Well, we sounded like Pinkerton, and with a shit load more angst. I was going through something, but now I’m getting over stuff so I’m happier, you get me?”  

“Yeah,” Bucky said. Because he did.  

“And we moved past that, except Brock keeps wanting to go back to our older stuff. So, we keep fighting over that. And I’m so fucking _tired_.”  

Bucky pursed his lips. He felt bad for Steve, he never really dealt with this before.  

In The Winter Soldier, Clint, Nat and Wanda were okay with whatever. As long as they played, he could write anything.  

“Did you try talking to Brock?”  

“Yeah, every single time we play. It’s impacting the band, though, he always plays—” 

“With his head down and ignoring the rest of you?” 

Steve nodded and took another sip from his drink.  

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”  

Steve took a deep breath and looked down, “Honestly? I don’t know.”  

“You’ll work things out. I really think you will. Now, come on, wanna come get some Pad Thai with me? I promised Nat some, and I really don’t wanna be sleeping on her doorstep.”  

Steve grinned at him and nodded as he wrapped the scarf around himself, “you know what? Sure. Sam’ll want some anyway.”  

** 

Steve was having a good day.  

He was sitting on Sam’s couch, holding the box of takeout he got from the Thai place with Bucky.  

He would’ve gone back to his two-story home his parents left him, but it was just too far and he missed Sam and wanted to see him when he was significantly less upset. All thanks to Bucky.  

He couldn’t really believe the fact that he went out with him in the first place. He barely knew Bucky. He only knew him as the cute bartender that gave him Coke when he asked for it and made stupid jokes. He was always around when he and the guys played at Rocco’s, and he always looked at them and _didn’t_ pull a face, like the security guys at the venues he goes to.  

Aside from the fact that Brock almost punched him right in the nose, today was good. Bucky was a sweetheart and he made Steve laugh so hard and so much, it eased his anxiety.  

And near the end, when Bucky walked him to his door and passed him the takeout and actually _reached out and hugged him_. Steve was blushing so hard at the memory.  

Sam had to walk in at that moment, of course, and when he saw Steve’s goofy smile and pink cheeks, he let out a big laugh and jumped on the couch next to him, stealing Steve’s coconut rice.  

“Hey! Fuck off, I got you some!”  

“I don’t know, stealing from you is so much better. What’s on TV?” Sam asked as he stuffed his face with _Steve_ ’s coconut rice. Steve only shoved him and took the other box.  

“Cutthroat Kitchen.” He replied and waited for the inevitable to happen. He watched as one of the contestants had to work in a strainer, and kept getting more and more frustrated as his wet ingredients trickled out.  

_What a good metaphor for my life,_ he thought and ate a bit more of his coconut rice.  

He relaxed bit by bit when Sam looked like he wasn’t about to say anything. Of course, it was too good to be true.  

“So… what’s got you all googly-eyed?” Sam asked, singing the last bit.  

Steve rolled his eyes and tried to fight off the blush, and failed spectacularly. He looked back at his coconut rice and shrugged, “nothing.”  

“Nothing? You look like you got matched with someone really hot on Tinder. Wait, you got a new match? Do I know them? Do you know them?”  

Steve barked out a laugh, “no! No, I deleted it like a month after I met you.”  

Sam awed, “now I feel bad for stealing your coconut rice. That’s like… the sweetest thing anyone ever told me. And I have a nephew. Who says really cute things. You’re so cute, Steve.”  

“Hey, are you hitting on me? Don’t. Didn’t really work out for us last time.” He countered.   

“You just _suck_ with Tinder dates,”  

“You super-liked me!” Steve cried.  

“My finger slipped—hey, you’re changing the subject!” Sam threw a pillow at him, “come on, what’s gotten you lookin’ all like Mary Poppins and shit, with the pink cheeks and stuff. Is it a new guy?”  

“No. Yes. No. No! I just went for a walk with Bucky from Rocco’s, you know, and we like, went to Dunkin’ Donuts and he got me a hot chocolate and made me feel better after the fight with Brock, Sam, stoooop.”  

Sam wasn’t even paying attention; he was aweing so much. Steve was turning so red; his cheeks were hurting.  

“Come on, Sam, it’s not a big deal. He was just being a nice guy.”  

“That’s so _cute_. I think I’m gonna die.” Sam teased and ate some more of his rice.  

“I should’ve swiped left.” Steve mumbled and turned up the volume.  

“But you didn’t!” 


	3. Bucky, You Miserable Wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta! All mistakes are my own.

Bucky was, for the first time in months, completely overwhelmed.  

He was drowning in assignments, studying was taking up too much of his time, and he couldn’t focus on much anymore. He was working way more than he could to make ends meet, and he couldn’t get any more money from his mother.  

He kept forgetting to do things, like take his medication, grab his keys, check his surroundings before crossing the street, call his mom when she called him ten times in a row, _eat._  

He was sitting in his own apartment, poring over his work. His stomach was in knots, his head swam, and he just wanted to leave his work and go out. 

He wanted to try to finish though. He got out his history paper on his laptop, a few books he borrowed from the library and went to work. He took notes by hand, muttering important key points over and over.  

_Okay, you can do this,_ he told himself, _this isn’t due for another week, you can take a break._  

He stood up and stretched. He was so glad he didn’t have a shift that night. He’d submitted his article for the student paper, so he got his volunteer work done for the week. He could continue working on his paper the next day, it can wait. Shakespeare can wait.  

Bucky walked to his kitchen, turning on the kettle and starting to prepare a cup of tea. Back in high school, his mom would always make him a cup of peppermint tea when he was feeling stressed or under the weather, and the tradition carried on.  

A few minutes later, he found himself sitting on his couch, wrapped up in a blanket and marathoning Doctor Who while drinking his tea.  

Days like this, he missed his family. He missed the fact that if he was feeling stressed, he could just walk over to one of his sisters or his mother, Winnie.  

Rebecca, for example, would know when he didn’t want to talk, or was too stressed. She’d get a bag of popcorn, drag him to the living room, turn on the TV and just watch TV with him so he can be in someone else’s company.  

He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and opened up his Messages app. The last time he talked to Rebecca was a few days ago, and she was feeling just as overwhelmed at he was. It was midterms for her, and since she was in her senior year, she wanted to have a very high GPA. 

He quickly sent her a text.  

**_Bucky: I wish I was annie’s age._**  

He threw his phone next to him and watched as Rose hung from the barrage balloon.  

His phone buzzed and he checked it, smiling when he saw that Rebecca texted back.  

**_Rebecca: don’t we all? gr12 makes me want 2 die_**  

**_Bucky: Honey, you got a big storm coming._**  

**_Rebecca: shut up, you complained about gr12 all the time before, lemme live._**  

**_Bucky: okay! Okay. How’s the GPA coming?_**  

**_Rebecca: i cried only twice this week so it’s all good._**  

Bucky laughed out loud at that. He was getting tired of texting, so he paused the episode and facetimed his sister.  

He fixed the nest on his head he called hair while the phone rang. It rang for a while but eventually she picked up.  

His sister looked like him, though she took up more after their father. She had the blue eyes he had, although shaped different, a heart-shaped face and her hair was cropped short and stopped at her shoulders.  

She was grinning at him through the phone and waved, “Bucky!”  

He grinned back, “Hey, Becks! Man, I missed your stupid face.”  

“Hey, who are _you_ calling stupid, Mr. English Degree?”  

He snorted, “Yeah, at least I _know_ what I wanna do with my life, Ms. Breakdown Every Half Hour.”  

She pulled a face and made fun of him by imitating him. A second later, they both burst out laughing, “I missed you, too. When are you gonna visit? Annie’s been asking about you. Gracie, too. I don’t know why, though,” she shrugged, “I don’t get what the big deal is since you’re such a pain in the ass.”  

He stuck out his tongue at her. She laughed and brushed her hair back, “okay, I need to go brush my teeth and I’m taking you with me.”  

“Ew. Gross. I don’t wanna see you brush your teeth.” 

“Too bad.”  

He suffered through an entire two minutes and kept making snarky remarks. She threatened to hang up a couple of times, so he had to tone it down.  

“My hair looks like it got electrocuted.” She pouted.  

“Like always.” 

“Shut it, James.”  

Secretly, he did like talking to her. The banter was fun, and it took his mind off things.  

“Okay, I’m done,” she said as she walked out of the bathroom and turned off the lights.  

“Really? I didn’t notice.” 

“I wish you were here, only so I can punch you.” She retorted. She walked to her bedroom and lay down in bed, and he caught a glimpse of his childhood home. The hallway was still covered in family pictures, and it was so much different than his small hallway which held nothing.  

He decided to get up and go to bed himself. He turned off the lights and walked to his bedroom, settling in the covers. What he liked about talking with Rebecca is that even when they were Facetiming, they didn’t have to talk. Just her presence was fine.  

“So,” he started as he settled in, “all jokes aside, how’s everybody?”  

They talked for an hour. She was talking animatedly about her university options, and the upcoming prom. He thought it was really cute how she seemed so excited, and she even got up to show him her dress.  

In return, she asked him about his life. He told her all about the work he had to do, which she related to. Natasha came up, and he laughed when her eyes lit up and she asked when he was bringing his friend to visit his family again. She talked about her friends, he talked about Nat and even Steve came up in the conversation.  

Eventually, the conversation shifted over to relationships. Rebecca told him about how she wasn’t interested in anyone, and was only taking one of her guy friends to prom.  

“Bullshit, you _tooootally_ like someone,” he teased. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.  

“No, high school boys are gross.” 

“So are uni guys, trust me.” 

“Really? How would you know?” She asked with a smirk. 

He shrugged, “Tinder has fuckboys. No one really caught my interest in any of my classes.”  

Her smirk got bigger and she looked downright _evil_ , “What about work?” 

He snorted, “You know, I can’t really meet anyone at work since everyone’s _drinking_ and I’m behind the bar.” 

“Well, what about the guy from that band you told me about? Shawn?”  

Bucky let out a loud laugh, “you mean Steve? I told you, he’s just someone I know. We’re not even friends, I think.”  

“But is he _cuuuute_?” She teased, drawing out the last syllable.  

He pressed his lips into a hard line and tried to hide his blush. She giggled into her sleeve, trying not to be too loud because everyone’s asleep. 

“You like him! Bucky and Steve sitting in a tree—” 

“Stop!”  

“K-I-S-S—” 

“Are you five?” 

“I-N-G—” 

“I’m gonna hang up now! Beccs, stop, I don’t like Steve like that.” 

“Wait, shit…” she got really quiet, “do you hear that?”  

She looked at him seriously while he strained his ears to hear whatever she was supposedly hearing.  

“What is it? Are you okay?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed as he raised up the volume.  

“I think it’s…”  

“it’s…?” 

“The sound of a LIAR!”  

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”  

“Okay, fine! I’m really tired, anyway. Am I gonna see you soon?” she questioned. She looked like she was about to reach through the screen and strangle him if he said no.  

“Yeah. Yes! Stop looking at me like that. Okay, I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“Bitch, you better. Goodnight!”  

“Night.”  

He hung up and felt instantly better. His eyes were threatening to close any minute, and he could barely keep them open. He reached over and put his phone on the night stand, turned around and fell asleep instantly. 

** 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Bucky’s life was as uneventful as always. He’d go to class, study, go to work, talk to Steve on his break, crash at Nat’s place, and repeat. The only new thing was the fact that he _regularly_ talked to Steve, and the guy was actually really funny and interesting.  

Of course, he didn’t visit his family. Like always. He always made promises and broke them like they meant nothing, but he couldn’t find the time. And honestly, he hated himself for it. Rebecca had texted him a lot though, so that did help dissipate the guilt. He even called his mother and made sure to call his other siblings.  

However, that didn’t mean everything was going great.  

He’d made a dent in his pills stash, his bills were stacking up, and his mental health was taking a steep decline.  

He tried to not let it get to him, though. If he was having a bad day, he’d go to the store and pick up a treat and make his way home.  

Today, though, was especially bad. Like, _bad_. Horrible. Fucking, worst day of the year.  

That’s how he found himself, sitting on a park bench while it was freezing, drinking the worst coffee he’d ever had, listening to the Smiths because, honestly, he was already emo as fuck at the moment. He would bust out some Brand New, or even fucking My Chemical Romance, but he wasn’t _that_ emo. The wind bit at his cheeks and his short hair was barely doing anything to help cover his ears (oh, how he missed his long hair sometimes), his coat was far too thin but he couldn’t afford a better one.  

See, he was running late that morning. He slept through his alarm, almost missed class and that had dampened his mood. Then, it was revealed to him, through the amazing invention that is the phone, that he was getting more hours and he _had_ to work on days he told Dave he couldn’t.  

And to make matters worse, he’d gotten into a fight with Natasha on the phone when he complained to her. She’d accused him of having no motivation—which was okay, true, but so very rude—and now he was… brooding.  

He thought about their earlier conversation with disdain and took a sip from the bitter coffee.  

“If you’re so unhappy, James, just start doing something you like,” she’d snapped into the phone. He was standing outside the coffee shop, smoking his first cigarette in months. The craving never really hit him, he did it only when stressed, and she was stressing him out.  

“You’re either gonna live like this,” she’d continued on, “bitter, lonely, depressed, or you can actually fix this? Like get a job you actually like?”  

“That’s easier said than done, Nat, I need to live—”  

“Okay, yeah sure, easier said than done, but did you even try?!” She’d yelled at him by that point. And he didn’t get what the fuck she needed from him.  

This was real life, and in real life, he worked even if he didn’t like his job to pay bills.  

He was lonely because he didn’t have time to find anyone.  

He was depressed because he had _depression_. Changing jobs wouldn’t automatically heal him.  

And she knew that, he knew that she knew. She knew it wasn’t easy, but he was certain she’d had enough.  

He put the coffee on the ground next to him and searched through his pockets for his brand new pack and lighter. Smacking the pack against his palm was, thankfully, still foreign and as he took out the cigarette and placed it in between his lips, ready to light it, all he felt was disgust with himself.  

He’d spent the money, though, so he couldn’t just let it go to waste.  

“Bucky?”  

He jumped and almost dropped the cigarette. He looked up only to see Sam looking down at him.  

“Oh, hey.” Bucky let out a small laugh and he smiled to hide his discomfort. He didn’t really want to be caught smoking, looking like he was going to strangle the first person to approach him while also looking like he was about to burst into tears any second. It just wasn’t a good look.  

“Hey, man, you okay?” Sam asked him as he sat down on the bench next to him.  

Bucky wondered if he really was that transparent, or maybe Sam was just scary good at figuring people out. There wasn’t any use to lie, so he shrugged as he lit his cigarette.  

“Well,” he said from the corner of his mouth, “long answer or short answer?”  

“Short answer.”  

“No.”  

Sam frowned, “long answer?”  

“Fuck no.”  

They stared at each other for a few seconds until they both burst out laughing. They laughed for quite a bit, until Bucky started to cough from the smoke and Sam had to clap him hard on the back.  

“Shit, man, do you like smoke often?” 

“Oh, no, this is my second one in months.” Bucky admitted.  

“Well, do you wanna talk about it?”  

Bucky frowned and took a drag. He didn’t know if Sam was really interested, and they were basically strangers, but Sam looked really sincere.  

“You… sure?” Bucky asked slowly.  

“Of course, dude. Come on, I know this shawarma place that’s like top notch. You down?” 

Bucky grinned, “sure.”  

* 

The two sat in the corner of a small shop, which was only a few streets over. It was quaint, homely and it made Bucky feel good.  

He felt bad about forking over some cash for the shawarma, having spent some cash on the horrible coffee from earlier. He couldn’t just get a water and call it a day, especially when he noticed Sam order a fucking _combo meal_.  

So, there they were, sitting across from each other. Sam, with his combo meal, and Bucky with his sandwich (which was, okay, pretty good, and he didn’t regret buying it that much).  

Sam was a kind man. He really was. He listened to Bucky, rather than yell at him like Natasha would’ve—totally justified behavior on her part—and he looked like he cared. 

Bucky started off with telling him what bothered him at the moment, the small things, like making rent and bartending, and an hour later he found himself spilling it all.  

“I just feel like I have no purpose in life,” he found himself saying, head in his hands, “like, is this it for me? Did I peak? Am I just gonna be stuck bartending? I didn’t think it was gonna be like _this._ ”  

Sam nodded, “Of course you have a purpose, Bucky, you didn’t peak.”  

“But, how do you know that? Like _for sure_.” Bucky whined, pouting. 

Sam straightened up and reached over to hold Bucky’s hand in his, which made Bucky blush internally because Sam was mad cute.  

“Look, Bucky, you have to believe in yourself. Be confident. Your degree isn’t useless, and you’re certainly not useless.”  

“But…” 

“But nothing. You can do it. You didn’t peak. Neither of us has yet, man, that’d be fucking depressing. What are you? Like twenty? Twenty-two?”  

“Twenty-two…”  

“That’s like. Not even quarter-life. Dude, you’re gonna make it. Being successful doesn’t mean having to be like fucking, I don’t know, J.K. Rowling or something. As long as you got food on the table, a roof over your head, a couple of friends and a smile on that pretty face of yours, you’re set.”  

Bucky melted at that point. He didn’t know if it was because Sam called his face pretty, or was it because of Sam’s great words, but he was like a puddle.  

“I guess you’re right,” Bucky mumbled.  

“Bitch, I know I’m right. Now, come on. I have band practice and you better come with.”  

Bucky laughed, “Isn’t enough I get to hear you guys every shift?”  

Sam stood up. “Nope. Now, come on, Tony’s getting pizza.” 

With that, he turned around and started to walk in the direction of the door.  

“But we just ate!”  

* 

Walking with Sam was not as awkward as Bucky thought it would be.  

The two walked side by side, filling the silence with jokes and facts about each other.  

Bucky found out quite a bit about Sam then. He listened as Sam spoke about his family. He told Bucky all about his mother, a woman that was quite formidable, and his older sister. His sister had a son, who Sam loved with all his heart and who _insisted_ that Sam teach him how to play the guitar.  

“What's his name?” Bucky asked.  

Sam’s face lit up, “Andrew. Did I really forget to mention that?” 

Bucky laughed and nodded.  

The walk was a bit long, so they eventually moved on from that. Bucky told Sam all about The Winter Soldier and Sam was amazed.  

“You were in a _band?_ And you almost got _signed?!_ ” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, why didn't you?” 

“Couldn't leave the others behind.”  

Sam looked at him with… Respect? It made Bucky smile back at him. 

They continued to walk. 

* 

Eventually, they reached a house.  

It was definitely not Tony Stark’s bomb ass mansion, but something way smaller and more modest. It was a two-story and the garage was open.  

Bucky followed Sam into the garage. He grinned when he saw Steve singing his heart out to Weezer’s _Pink Triangle_ of all things.  

Except the lyrics were changed and Bucky laughed out loud when he picked up on it.  

“I’m dumb! He’s a straight man!  

I thought I had found the one!”  

“Sorry to hear that, buddy!” Sam yelled at a very dramatic Steve. Steve turned to look at Sam, only to almost drop his mic when he saw Bucky.  

“Bucky!”  

“Hope I'm not intruding…” Bucky said with a small smile. 

Steve shook his head, “No! No, no. Hey, come here!” 

Bucky barely had time to spread his arms when Steve slammed into him, wrapping him in a tight hug.  

“Come on, Steve, you'll kill the poor guy!” Sam yelled over at them. He’d walked over to Bruce and left them.  

Steve ignored him and looked up at Bucky with a huge smile, “how've you been?” 

Bucky smiled, “great. You?” 

“Okay. Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys.” 

Bucky followed him, looking around as he did so. It looked as if this was the usual set up for the band. The drum set had their name on it, which was quite adorable.  

Steve walked him over to Tony who was sitting at the drum set, browsing through his phone.  

“Hey, Tony!”   

Tony held up a finger, sent his last e-mail, and then finally looked up. 

“Well, who do we have here?” 

“Tony, this is Bucky—” 

“Oh, the bartender, yea.” 

“Nice to meet you, uh, Tony,” Bucky said with an awkward smile. It was so weird calling him Tony. The guy looked like he was supposed to be called Mr. Stark. Or Your Highness.  

“So… Bucky, was it? What brings you to Steve’s _abode_?  

Bucky turned to look at Steve, “this your place?” 

Steve started to look awkward, “Yeah, it's mine.” 

Bucky decided not to ask and he turned to Tony.  

“I ran into Sam and he invited me over here. Best to hear what you guys sound like when I'm not workin’.” 

“Well, if we had our _bassist_ , we’d probably sound loads better.” 

The button-up guy—Bruce?—looked up from his guitar, “he’s coming. Just give him a few minutes.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and whispered to Bucky, “yeah, right. More like a few hours.” 

“Or a few years!” Tony added, clearly ignoring the fact that Steve did not want to openly make fun of Brock.  

“Look, guys,” Bruce said as he slung the guitar strap on his shoulders, “we’re supposed to be a band here. A team, remember? Give the guy some slack.” 

“Yeah, okay, when he starts showing up on time, and starts playing like he's actually interested, rather than playing like a character in a Tim Burton movie,” Tony said and then he started to play the intro to a song Bucky remembered. 

Bucky didn't know what made him say it. If he could bite off his tongue, he would. Except, there he was, and the words just tumbled out of his mouth. 

“I can sub in for him.” 

Four pairs of eyes immediately stared at him. 

He brushed his hand through his hair, “what? I listen to you guys all the time, I'll just improvise a bit. It's better than not doing anything.”  

Sam beamed. Steve looked at Bucky like he was a miracle. Bruce nodded with a smile and passed Bucky a discarded bass. Tony mumbled about how he could stay forever if he wanted to, but everyone ignored him. 

And that was how Bucky found himself standing, with a bass in hand, playing along with a band that was, two minutes ago, complete strangers.  

They played well. Really well. He really enjoyed playing with them, and he loved the dynamic between them all. Even when Sam looked like he was about to fall on top of him, he didn't mind.  

Thing is, he missed this. He missed playing in a band, missed the feeling of his bass underneath his fingertips, missed playing song after song after song.  

Maybe it was an hour, and it felt like forever but also like no time at all, when Brock finally showed up.  

He took one look at Bucky and swore loudly, “oh, fuck you!”  

With that, he turned around, leaving Bucky wide-mouthed. 

“What the fuck just happened? Did you guys just see that? Did emo fucker over there just say that to me? Fuck no.” Bucky grumbled as he hurried to take off the bass. 

To his surprise, Steve zoomed past him and ran outside, causing the others to run after him. 

“Steve!” Bucky yelled, “wait, dude, let _me_ at ‘em!”  

Steve was ignoring him, though. He was busy yelling after Brock, “what the fuck’s your problem?!”  

Bucky was amazed. He couldn't believe the amount of drama happening, and if only he could discreetly take out his phone and Snapchat this to Natasha and Clint… 

“What the fuck’s my problem?” Brock asked, rhetorically of course, “what the fuck’s _your_ problem?! I come and you guys already replaced me?!”  

“Look, Brock, we didn't replace you,” Bruce started to say. 

“Oh shut it, Remus Lupin, that guy’s a replacement and you all know it,” he yelled, pointing right at Bucky. Which was rude, firstly and secondly, Bucky was not a replacement. No thanks. He had enough on his plate.  

“Well, shit for brains, if you could just listen!” Tony yelled back. “Bucky here’s just filling in because you couldn't bother showing up on time.” 

“Look, guys, maybe this is just a big old misunderstanding,” Bruce started to say, again, only to be shut down by Brock. 

“I said, shut up!”  

“Don't say that to Bruce!” Sam yelled.  

Brock ignored him.  

“I had to work, Tony, or do you not know what that is since you live out of Daddy’s pocket?” 

Tony looked like was about to lunge at Brock, so Bucky quickly stepped in.  

“Okay, Brock, buddy, can you like calm down,” Bucky tried to say, walking closer to Brock. 

“Don't call me buddy,” 

“Okay, pal, look, I'll get out of your hair just… Please stay in the band. They need you. Now, go out there and play your heart out.” Bucky tried to placate him. Brock only levelled him with a glare so intense, Bucky thought it might destroy him. 

Brock nodded once and then walked into the garage, forcing Tony and Bruce to go run after him, lest he wreck the drum set in his rage. 

“I'll see you in a bit, bud.” Sam said with a small smile. Bucky nodded at him and patted him on the back like a bro, and watched as Sam walked back into the house. 

Eventually, it was just Steve and Bucky.  

He could tell Steve was upset. He was looking down, eyebrows furrowed, hands in his pockets and he was slouching more than usual. 

“Hey, don't be upset,” Bucky said with a small smile, “you guys are gonna be fine, there's just some tension and it's all gonna be solved. You hear me?” 

Steve nodded and then hugged Bucky tightly, making Bucky smile and rub Steve’s back. 

The hug was long. Too long? Maybe. But was it nice? Hell yes.  

“I wish it was true, though.” Steve said as he pulled back from the hug.  

Bucky looked at him, confused, trying to figure out what he meant. His eyes glanced down at Steve’s lips then back up to his eyes, “what do you mean?” 

“I wish you were Brock’s replacement.” 


	4. Bucky Barnes and the Case of Too Much Blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd! Hope you guys like this one. 2 more chapters to go!

When Bucky woke up, he certainly did not expect Natasha next to him, on her iPad, like it was no big deal. 

He jumped, immediately pulling the blanket up to cover his chest and then blushed intensely. He really hoped she didn't see his hearts boxers. They were a gag gift, and he wasn't gonna let them go to waste. 

“Morning,” she said, like she didn't just trespass, and scare the utter crap out of him. That's like an entire year out of his life, gone.  

“Uh, good morning,” he said back, stretching, “what are you doing here?” 

“Bored.” 

“Hm. Bored. Okay. Want anything to eat?” 

“No thanks, Lover Boy.” 

He blushed an intense shade of red. 

* 

Maybe the reason Steve was so darn cute was because of how flustered he got. 

They were both sitting at a coffee shop, their books and laptops out. They wanted to spend time together, but also needed to do work so how good of a compromise was this?  

Steve was writing up his essay, taking sips from his peppermint hot chocolate, while Bucky did his history reading. His latte was burning and he was confused as to how the fuck Steve was drinking his drink. 

“You got a bit of whipped cream over there,” Bucky said with a small laugh. 

Steve looked up. On his upper lip, there was a bit of whipped cream and Bucky had the urge to bend down and just kiss it off. 

Except he didn't, he reached over and wiped it off, making Steve smile shyly. 

“There. Gone.” 

* 

Usually it was Bucky who called. Steve was more of a texter. He sent messages at the speed of light while Bucky just liked to hear people’s voices. 

He called Steve one day. His shift was cancelled, which made him want to cry, but he had some extra cash and he decided hey. Why not spend it on something nice?  

So, he called Steve. Steve answered the call, and Bucky noted the noise in the background.  

“Hello?” 

Fuck, Bucky’s shift was cancelled but Steve was at the bar.  

“Oh, hey, Stevie. Just wanted to see what you're up to, you're at the bar right?” 

A loud _clang_ and a weird _zing_ sound reverberated and it made Bucky hold the phone at arms length for a moment. 

When he put the phone back to his ear, he could hear Steve yelling, “Tony put those drumsticks down or I’ll shove them up your ass! Don't test me, Stark! And Sam, stop having an aneurysm! 

“Anyway, hey, Buck. Actually, we’re at my garage. We don't play tonight, some other bands playing and so. Yeah. You not at the bar?” 

“No,” Bucky huffed, ready to go into Rant Mode, as Nat called it, “fucking Dave cancelled my shift. It's not like I need to pay for living expenses or anything, noooo! So, I'm just bored. If you're not busy, do you wanna go out? We can go see a movie.” 

Bucky wanted to bite his tongue off. 

See a movie? This sounded like a date. He didn't know if Steve liked him that way, and why on Earth was he using date language?  

Obviously, Bucky was not really adept at this dating thing. Or even making friends.  

“Oh, a movie?” 

He heard, “get it, Steven!” in the background which sounded suspiciously like Tony. He could be wrong, though.  

“Yeah. We could see the new Star Wars? It's at the cheap movie theatre for like $3.99 a ticket and I haven't seen it yet.” 

“What? $3.99? I've seen it before but fuck that, I'm coming.”  

“That's what she said!” Someone—Tony?—yelled  again.  

“Shut the fuck _up_ , Tony!” Steve yelled back, “honestly, you'd think I'm in a band with an eleven-year old.” 

Bucky thought about Clint. 

“Trust me, I know how you feel.”  

* 

They planned to meet at Dunkin Donuts. It wasn't that fancy, and okay, Bucky can do better, but it was all he could afford. 

They took their drinks (a coffee for Bucky, a hot chocolate for Steve) and they walked  to the theatre. The movie was already out for months, but they showed it in the discount theatre for cheap and Bucky loved it. 

Steve let him pay for the tickets, on the condition that he got Bucky a treat. They both went all the way up to the top and sat on the farthest seats. 

Bucky blushed.  

This was total date behaviour. But also maybe not? Friends usually do stuff like this all the time. 

Except, Steve was cute. He was _adorable._ Bucky just wanted to kiss him and then cuddle up to him, because the man was a total babe. He was small, and cute, and passionate, and Bucky was pretty sure their signs were compatible? Maybe? He didn't really know. He knew jack shit about astrology.  

(A discreet Google search in the bathroom told him that they were _not_ compatible. Yikes. But he did not let that discourage him!)  

Anyway, they waited for the movie to start. Steve had his hand on the arm rest, and Bucky wanted to just… Hold it? But he didn't. Because that would be weird.  

“It's starting! I love this movie!” Steve whispered into Bucky's ear, even though they were literally the only two people there.  

“Spoil this and I'll pretend I don't know you,” Bucky joked.  

“Trust me, I won't do that to you.”  

Bucky turned to look at him and smiled. Steve looked so adorable in that lighting. The light from the screen reflected on his face, and God, Bucky felt like dying. Maybe they were compatible. Maybe he took a bad test.  

(Another discreet Google search revealed that he was an idiot who put Leo instead of Cancer, and that they were _indeed_ compatible. He may or may not have let out a whoop in the stall.)  

* 

After the movie, they both walked outside and towards nowhere in general. The movie was great, and Bucky couldn't stop talking about it.  

Somehow, they ended up linking arms and Bucky didn't really notice, since he was so personally offended over the death of Han Solo. 

“How could he do that? To his own dad? Like honestly, Ben needs to fuckin’ chill!” 

“I know!” 

“And like, people said Rey was a Mary Sue? Fucking where! And Luke!” And he kept going. 

They kept walking until they saw an ice cream parlour. Steve grinned up at Bucky, “let's get some ice cream.”  

Bucky nodded, “sure.” 

They got some ice cream and they kept on walking, and Bucky did not want that night to end.  

* 

When Steve called him for the first time, rather than texting him which was something they did often, Bucky was in quite an awful position.  

He was making drinks for a patron, another patron looked like they were about to throw up, nobody else was helping out and he was supposed to be on his _break._  

The band wasn't there because this wasn't even his goddamn shift, and best of all, he had an essay due the next day and he wasn't even halfway done so he had to stay up. 

God bless him.  

He sadly watched the call go to voicemail, and he finished the drinks, handing them to the patron. He had to fight off the urge to be snarky, and he was beyond annoyed when he noticed the two-dollar tip. For a twenty-five dollar order. 

Great, he can get himself a Coke and a pack of gum.  

Steve called again, and Bucky thought something big must have going on, so the minute he saw Chris, he flagged him down. 

“You take care of the bar, I need to take this call.” 

“But I ain't a bartender!” Chris yelled after him. Bucky was already putting on his coat and heading out the door.  

“Don't bartend! Just stand there!” He shouted back and immediately answered when he was outside the building. 

“Hello?” 

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice nearly pierced his eardrum. Goddamn, that man can shout.  

“Steve! You alright?” Bucky asked with a frown. Was he sick? Was he in a fight? Did he get arrested? 

Bucky needed to know. 

“I’m fine! I just, I need to see you.” Steve sounded so earnest, if Bucky’s heart could sing it would.  

“Oh, man, I'm working…”He mumbled into the phone. He wouldn't get off for another two hours at least. 

“Can I see you then? When you finish your shift?” 

“I finish in two hours.” 

“That's okay, this is just BIG news and I like need to see you. Text me your address.” 

“Okay… Steve, you're not… Pregnant are you?” 

“Fuck off, jerk.” And Steve hung up.  

* 

Two hours later,  he saw Steve sitting outside his apartment door.  

Steve immediately sat up when he saw Bucky. Bucky unlocked the door and hugged Steve as a greeting then invited him inside. 

“You want anything to drink?” Bucky asked as he took out a mug for himself, “I got tea and hot chocolate packets.” 

“Ooh! Hot chocolate, please.” 

Hot chocolate it was. He took out another mug and watched as Steve paced around the room. 

He poured the hot water (hot milk for Steve) and walked to the couch and placed the two mugs on the table. Steve was still pacing, so Bucky looked up and sighed, “okay, what's getting you all like this, Stevie?” 

He thought Steve would make him guess. Or he’d tell him slowly.  

Instead, Steve all but yelled out, “we might get signed!” 

 Bucky stared at him. 

“That’s. That's fucking amazing.”  

“Right!”  

Steve started to pace again, “I contacted the label and they're sending over a guy in two weeks at this venue by your place. We need to be on top of our shit and I'm just so excited for this.” 

Bucky stood up and stopped Steve, holding his shoulders, “you're gonna be fine.” 

He pulled him into a tight hug and then let go, “honestly, Stevie, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me.”  

“Thanks, Buck. I just really wanted you to be the first to know.” 

Bucky grinned, “that’s so thoughtful of you. Now, I'm not letting you go out at a time like this, so if you don't mind, I'll get you a change of clothes and you can sleep over.” 

Steve's smile made him want to keep it there forever.  

* 

They settled down next to each other in Bucky’s bed. At first, Steve was far away, on his side. He was on his phone, and Bucky could feel the awkwardness. He was sure he could cut through the tension with a knife.  

Eventually, Steve got closer. He was no longer awkward on his side, actually, he was cuddled up to Bucky. His head was on Bucky’s chest and he was scrolling through his YouTube comments with a small smile.  

Meanwhile, Bucky was writing his essay. He was finally done and he treated himself by checking Twitter. He chuckled at Nat’s tweet of a sleeping Clint with her hovering on the side, marker in hand.  

“Is that her boyfriend?”  

Bucky looked at Steve and would've totally shrugged except he couldn't because of Steve’s head. So he did an ‘enh?’ sound. 

“Like? I think so? Maybe? They've been going out a lot. I'm pretty sure Clint likes her, has had feelings for her for ages. Old Man’s probably laying on some moves about now.” 

“Old Man?” 

“He’s the oldest out of all of us. He’s like twenty-five. So, yeah.” 

“I feel like if we called Bruce ‘Old Man’ he’d pop a vessel.” 

“He's kind of like an old man, though.” Bucky hummed. With the button-ups and the way he spoke, you'd think he was one of their dads or something.  

They were quiet for a bit. Steve was now on Tumblr, while Bucky watched Tastemade videos on Facebook, which were his guilty pleasure. 

It wasn't silent for long, though.  

“I miss my old man.” Steve murmured. 

Bucky frowned. He hugged Steve close to try and make him feel better.  

“What happened to him?”  

Steve sighed.  

“Cancer. He had a tumour in his brain. We found out at the last stages.” 

Bucky’s frown deepened and he hugged Steve closer, “I’m so sorry.” 

Steve shrugged, “it’s alright. What can you do, right? Mom followed not too soon after. They left me the house and it's mortgage-free, so at least I’m fine.”  

Bucky hugged Steve close to him.  

They sat like that for awhile, just hugging each other. It was nice, and Bucky missed the affection. He loved having people close.  

Steve kissed him on the cheek.  

* 

He was working at Rocco’s.  

The anxiety of assignments and readings being due was overwhelming,  but he had to make rent. He stood there, mixing one drink after another and feeling like he was about to pass out.  

He was sick. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, his nose was burning and his stomach felt like it was a blender. His throat itched and he tried so hard not to cough or sneeze into anything he was mixing. 

So far, he was successful. 

It was gross that he was working while sick, but he washed his hands and he took his antibiotics. It was just _now_ that it was starting to affect him badly, near the end of his shift.  

The band was playing the end of their set. It was almost hilarious how much tension there was. Brock was playing like someone was forcing him to, and Steve was singing like a pop punk heartthrob and okay, it _was_ hilarious.  

He toughed it out for the remainder of his shift. Every part of his body hurt, and he thought he was going to pass out.  

The bar was nearly empty, though, for once. He took out his phone and decided to text Nat for a while.  

 ** _Bucky_** ** _:_**  

 ** _If I die u can have all my instruments._**  

He looked up and groaned. If only he could leave the half hour early, but he couldn't.  

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed. 

 ** _Nat:_**  

 ** _Can I have your Harry Potter books?_**  

Bucky snorted in attractively.  

 ** _Bucky:_**  

 ** _No, those r for Steve. Especially the third 1, we both like that 1_**  

 ** _Nat:_**  

 ** _Everyone likes that one._**  

 ** _Bucky:_**  

 ** _Because ITS GOOD! U can fight w him tho on who gets les mis_**  

 ** _Nat:_**  

 ** _We both know I'd win that fight_**  

He laughed out loud. Natasha could crush Steve, but Steve was a hot-headed machine. Natasha would beat the shit out of him and Steve would come up swinging.  

He looked up and saw Steve looking at him. Bucky waved at him with a smile. Steve smiled back.  

* 

Bucky was cleaning up. Natasha had told him to come over after his shift so they can watch Criminal Minds with Clint, and he was actually excited for that. He’d decided on picking up some food on his way there.  

He took out his phone and sent Natasha a quick snapchat of the counter with the caption, _all clean! omw do u want pizza?_  

He locked the register and took off his name tag, put it in his bag and got ready to leave the bar. The band was packing up and he wanted to tell them a quick goodbye before he left. 

He walked over, smiling when Steve waved at him. 

“Hey, Buck! Heading out?”  

Bucky nodded, “yeah. Finally done. Are we all walking in the same direction? We can all head out at the same time?”  

Steve agreed on behalf of the entire band, which was good enough for Bucky. His phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket to see a Snapchat notification from Natasha. He unlocked it and saw her snap, which was a quite ridiculous selfie of her and Clint making weird faces at the camera with the caption _PLS._  

“Oh, is that your girlfriend?” Sam asked from over his shoulder.  

Bucky barked out a laugh, “Ha! No, she’s just one of my best friends. I'm actually on my way to see her now.”  

“Who was the other guy?” Sam asked again. 

“Clint, my other best friend. One hell of a guy. Likes Friends a bit too much.”  

“Who doesn’t?” Tony interjected. 

“Um? Me?” Bucky replied.  

“Steve, tell him he’s not invited to hang out with us again.” Tony said to Steve, ignoring Bucky. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “okay, are you guys ready to go?”  

Bruce nodded, “yeah. Brock?” 

Bucky forgot all about Brock, since he was packing up quietly in the background. Brock nodded in response. 

He walked outside, telling Chris goodnight who was to lock up after. They were outside the bar, ready to walk home when Steve stopped them. 

“Okay, so I can't hold it any longer but I have news.” 

 _Oh shit,_ Bucky thought. Steve was dropping _the_ news. He quickly took out his phone to record their reaction (and also to post it on his story).  

“You finally got a boyfriend?” Sam asked, “is he from Tinder?” 

“No! Let me finish. So… We might get signed!”  

Three voices yelled, “What?!” in happy, disbelieving voices, while one voice stood out. It, too, yelled “what?!” but in an angry way that made Bucky _almost_ delete his story. 

 _Almost._ He still posted it. 

“So, I contacted a record label and sent them our demo and they said they're sending a guy over to check us out in two weeks!” Steve got it all out so fast, it was amazing.  

“Steve, that's awesome!” Sam yelled and he hugged Steve tight. Tony clapped Steve on the back while Bruce grinned.  

They all turned to Brock who looked anything but happy.  

“They actually _liked_ the shit you sent them?” He snapped. 

“Hey, now, man,” Sam started to say, “no need to be rude, our stuff is fine…” 

“No the fuck it’s not.” Brock interrupted. 

“Yes the fuck it is.” Bucky retorted. All eyes snapped to him. He shrugged, “your sound’s good. Steve showed me your old stuff and you guys sound better now.” 

“What do you know? You're just a fucking bartender, you don't know shit.” Brock argued.  

Bucky frowned and walked closer, “oh, yeah? Okay, Wise Guy, if I don't know shit, how do you explain how your downloads went up when you changed your sound? Bands change, you guys can't just sound the same all the damn time.” 

“Fuck off.” Brock growled. Bucky wasn't scared though. 

“And I do, in fact, know what I'm talking about, so no, I'm not gonna fuck off.” Bucky continued and he was almost nose to nose with Brock. Brock was bulky, he looked like he might win in a fight but Bucky was determined to kick this guy’s ass if needed. 

“Look, guys, just come on, back it up,” Bruce said. He slowly pushed Bucky back, and Bucky complied. He walked back a few steps and Steve immediately walked towards Brock with a small smile.  

“Come on, we dreamed about this, bud. Isn't it nice we’re getting a chance like this?”  

"Look, it's nice that we're getting a chance," he heard Brock say, "but should we really go with it when we have so many problems?"  

"Brock, the reason we have problems is because you won't accept the fact that our sound's changing, and you have to accept that we need to change. All of us like our current sound, and we still try to include some of the old stuff,” Steve pleaded.  

"We sounded better before, Steve. We honestly did, people don't wanna hear the shit we're coming up with now." 

"It's not shit, it's... It's good. If that record label liked it, it's good." 

"So, you're just gonna sell out? Is that it?" 

"Look, Brock, no one said anything about selling out," Sam started to say. 

"You guys are a bunch of sellouts!"  

"Okay, maybe that's true," Tony started to say but Bruce shushed him. 

"Brock, we want you to be with us," Steve said, brushing his hair back, "we want you to be with us and we want to get signed, and if that means making money and being called sellouts, then I'll take it." 

Brock glared at Steve.  

"I won't."  

With that, he turned around, lifted his case and started to walk away from them.  

"What do you mean?!" Steve yelled and ran after him. 

"I'm done. I'm done with the band, Steve. I'm done with all of you, I quit." Brock yelled and continued to walk.  

 _What a drama queen,_ Bucky thought. . 

"You can't just leave, the show’s in two weeks!” Steve yelled and chased after him. He gripped Brock’s shoulder and turned him around roughly. 

Brock immediately swung his fist and Steve barely missed it. 

“Whoa, calm down!” Bucky yelled and he ran towards them. Brock swung again, except this time he didn't miss. The blow landed right on Bucky’s left cheekbone.  

He recoiled and when he touched the wound, he winced. Steve was immediately hovering over him, and Bucky tried to move him away so he could punch Brock back. 

Except, he couldn't because the rest of the band separated the two of them.  

“Let go of me, Tony!” Brock yelled but Tony held him back. 

“You think I'm dumb enough to let go of you, I don't want a fucking fight.” Tony retorted. 

Brock shoved Tony off, grabbed his case which fell when Tony restrained him and took a few steps back. 

“Good luck in two weeks.”  

With that he walked away.  

* 

They all eventually parted ways after worrying over what they would do without a bassist. Bucky was worried for them, and he really thought they deserved to get signed. 

He knew Steve was upset about the whole thing so he asked him to join him, Natasha and Clint. Steve agreed and now they were walking from Domino’s, pizza in hand. 

“I'm really sorry you got punched.” Steve said when they were near Natasha’s apartment. 

“It's no big deal. I’m really sorry you lost your band member.”  

Steve laughed, “it's no big deal.” 

When they arrived at Natasha’s, she immediately focused on the forming bruise on his left cheek. 

“What the fuck happened?” She yelled, dragging him inside. 

Clint popped up behind her, “whoa! You got into a fight? Did you win?”  

“Yes and no. It doesn't matter, what matters is that this is Steve!”  

Steve smiled awkwardly at Clint while holding the pizza.  

“Hey, Steve,” Nat greeted him with a smile, “haven't seen you in a while. You,” she said to Bucky, “sit here while I go get you a bandage and some rubbing alcohol.” 

“You literally do not need to do that.” He called after her, but she was already gone. 

“Hiya, Steve, I'm Clint.” Clint introduced himself with a huge grin. Bucky was getting golden retriever vibes. 

“Hey, it's nice to meet you.” Steve said. 

“Make yourself at home! Just don't put your feet on the table, Nat hates that. Come on in, I'll get us a few plates while Nat deals with Buck.” 

“It's just a bruise!” Bucky said loudly, but Clint ignored him.  

Steve walked over to the couch and placed the pizza box on the table.  

Natasha came back with a cotton ball, rubbing alcohol and a bandage. Bucky groaned when she made him sit on the couch and he waited impatiently while she sterilized his bruise. He knew she was being caring but honestly, can't a guy get punched in peace?  

Clearly not. 

She tsked and tutted and after she was satisfied, she finally sat down next to Clint on the couch. More like, on top of him.  

Steve and Bucky sat side by side, the former feeling a bit more awkward.  

“Wait, fuck, we forgot to put on the show.” Bucky groaned. 

“Go.” Natasha ordered him. 

“Why can't you?” 

“Because.” 

“I got you pizza!” 

“ _Go.”_  

“Fine!” 

He stood up with a huff, looked up episodes of Criminal Minds on her laptop and hooked it up to the HDMI cable. He sat back next to Steve and wrapped his arm around him. 

“Is this okay?” He asked. 

Steve looked up and nodded, “yeah, this is fine.”  

* 

A few hours later, they were still watching the show. Clint, Natasha and Bucky were awake and engrossed in the show, while Steve was passed out. He had his arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist while Bucky’s arm was around his shoulders. His head was on Bucky’s chest and it just made the butterflies in Bucky’s stomach go nuts.  

“He’s so cute,” Nat whispered to Bucky. 

“Yeah, your emo dream guy is adorable.” Bucky whispered back. 

She glared at Bucky and turned her gaze towards the episode.  

A few minutes later, she whispered again, “you guys can sleep over if you want.” 

“Thanks.” He whispered back. 

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Clint said, quite loudly. 

Steve hummed in his sleep. 

* 

Half an hour later, he woke Steve up. They couldn't stay over since that was no room for them to sleep, so Bucky decided to take Steve home since it was way closer than Steve’s place. 

Getting a groggy Steve from Natasha’s place to Bucky’s was not an easy task. It was incredibly difficult and when he finally got Steve into his bed, he felt truly accomplished.  

There should be an Olympic medal for this. 

He was lying down in bed and Steve was cuddling him as if he was a giant teddy bear. He went through his Twitter feed when Steve spoke (which made Bucky nearly shit his pants because _Jesus_ ).  

“What do you mean you know what you're talking about?” 

“What the fu-what?” 

“Back…” Steve yawned and rubbed his eyes, “back with Brock. You said you knew what you were talking about.” 

“Yeah. I used to be in a band.” 

“Used to?” Steve yawned again. “What happened?” 

“Couldn't get all of us signed. Look, how about you sleep, bud?” 

“Okay. Night night.” 

Bucky chuckled, “goodnight.”  

* 

Bucky eventually told Steve all about the band. Steve couldn’t believe Bucky’s loyalty. 

“Wouldn't you do the same?” Bucky had asked Steve. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I think I would have.” 

* 

Bucky was walking home from campus. 

It was an okay day. He had two lectures in a row and he felt like it was so completely mind-numbingly _boring_. He checked his phone and saw no new messages. The last message he got was Steve asking when he finished and then _nothing._  

Just when he thought he could go home and lie down, someone grabbed him and held him against the wall of a building. 

“Whoa, the fu- _Steve?!_ How are you so strong—” 

“Look, the concert’s in two weeks, I need a bassist and _you’re_ a bassist. Nat tells me you're good, so does Sam, I'm fucking desperate and apparently you had a band. I poured my heart and soul into this band and I won't let one fuck-up ruin it for me. Now, can you play this show with us or not?” Steve got it all out so fast, Bucky wasn't sure if Steve even _breathed._  

 _“_ Uh, sure—” 

“Okay, good. If you fuck this up for me, I swear I'll hunt you down.” 

“Um, okay—” 

Bucky _was not_ scared. 

Steve glared at him for a moment and then smiled, fixing Bucky’s collar. 

Okay.  

He was. 


	5. Now or Never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Next one is the epilogue and then it's done. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you guys like thi.

The crowd outside was getting loud. Bucky stood there, bass in hand feeling like he was about to hyperventilate.  

Steve came up to him, his hair gelled into place, looking incredibly nervous.  

“We’re gonna be okay.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.” Bucky said then swallowed. 

Okay, maybe there should be some background for the scene.  

It all started when Steve kind of assaulted Bucky on campus. 

Since then, the entire band worked hard for Bucky to catch up with them. They still played at the bar except Sam played the bass instead, which sounded kind of… Bad.  

Bucky was overworked. School, bartending, playing.  

“My fingers,” he’d complained to Natasha one night, “my fingers, Nat. My calluses are growing calluses.” 

O

“Suck it up, buttercup.” She retorted.  

“I swear there's blood on the strings,” he’d whined another night to Clint, “I don't think I worked you guys this hard.” 

Clint snorted, “ha! Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”  

And now, there he was. Standing backstage in his best clothes (but not too good), holding his bass which was shined (but not too shiny) and playing with his hair (but not too much—lest it get messy).  

Steve was pacing, and it was driving Bucky crazy. He kept repeating over and over how they were going to be okay, which okay, Bucky _got_.  

He took the bass of and walked over to Steve this time and stopped his pacing, gripping his shoulders lightly.  

“We’re gonna be okay, Stevie.”  

Steve bit his lip and looked up at Bucky, except this time it was _different_. His eyes were filled with… Adoration? It made Bucky blush and not for the first time did he want to kiss the hell out of Steve.  

“Thank you for doing this. I think I thanked you like dozens of times but I'm truly grateful.” Steve murmured.  

Bucky smiled and brushed a strand of Steve’s hair back from his face.  

“Thank you for asking me to do this, even if you scared me half to death.” 

Steve grinned and Bucky noticed how his eyes glanced at Bucky’s lips.  

So, Bucky did what he wanted to do for a long while. 

He tilted Steve’s head up and instead of going for it, he whispered, “is it okay if I kiss you?” 

“Just do it, _please_.”   

And so they kissed. 

It was sweet. It was clumsy in the way that first kisses usually were, but God, it was sweet. Bucky loved every second of it, and he rested his hands on Steve’s face while Steve clutched at his shirt and it was just too much.  

Eventually, they had to stop. There was a show waiting, there were people waiting, there was a guy with Steve’s future waiting and they had to stop. 

Bucky pulled away slowly and chuckled, “after this, remind me to take you out on a date.” 

“Do I get to pick where we go?” 

“Yes.” 

“It's a date.” 

“Okay, Hot Topic, we got a show to kill.”  

* 

Okay, honestly, Bucky thought they _killed it._  

Sam was an animal. He was pretty sure the guy was on _something_ because goddamn. Bruce looked so happy and excited, it was kind of nice seeing the guy let loose. Tony was playing those drums so loud and so well, it reminded Bucky so much of Clint.  

And Steve, Steve killed it. His vocals were on point, and he interacted with the crowd which seemed so into it that it made Bucky so proud of the band.  

Steve even included his own twist on Pink Triangle which made Bucky laugh so hard, he couldn't do his backup vocals for the song. 

It was hard work. All of it was.  

But it was worth it. It truly was. Bucky had a date, he had a band, he had more friends and he was on Natasha’s story and Instagram playing the bass, so he had it pretty good. Sure, he still had to take his pills, and he was still depressed and he hated his jobs but things were starting to get better.  

“So, Stevie, you still up for that date?” He asked Steve after the show. 

“Fuck yes.” 

It was a pretty good ending for Bucky. Looks like he had it all. 

Did they get signed? 

Well, it's up to you to decide. 

(Newsflash: they totally did.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this totally unserious story! Sorry this was so short (5 chapters but what can you do)  
> 


	6. Epilogue: A Series of Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And since the last chapter was so short, I decided what the hey. Might as well post the epilogue while we're at it.

The first time they tried to have a Totally Awesome date, Steve and Bucky were quite… Unsuccessful. 

They were back from Starbucks (a total step-up from Dunkin Donuts!) and were in Steve’s house. They were talking for a bit about their childhoods (how they were both subjected to music lessons). Eventually, they moved onto the good stuff.  

They were making out on the couch like two goofballs, all smiles and blushing, when Sam, of all people, barged in through the front door with the rest of the band. 

“Whoa! PDA much!” Tony yelled.  

Bucky pulled away quickly and glared at them, “how the fuck did you get in here?” 

“I have a key!” Sam declared, holding up his key. 

“He has a key?!” Bucky yelled. 

“He has a key.” Steve sighed. 

“Okay, so Sam has a key, but there are more pressing matters. We came here to talk to Steve about you joining our band, but since you're here we’ll ask you.” Tony said, sitting between Bucky and Steve. 

Bucky grumbled, “okay, rude. Anyway, you sure you want me to join? You know I can't play when I'm at _work.”_  

“That's the thing. We’ll just play when you’re not working.” Bruce said.  

“I have school.” 

“Can you at least record with us?” 

Bucky pursed his lips, “fine. What about playing live?” 

Sam shrugged, “whenever you’re free, man. Plus, we’ll figure it out.” 

“I guess.” Bucky said.  

“So, is there anything else you guys need, because you're kind of crashing our date?” Steve asked, and Bucky knew he was hoping they'd leave. 

“Yeah! Your Netflix account, let's all watch something, we miss you.” Sam said as innocently as possible. 

“Tony probably owns Netflix, watch it at his place.” 

“Come on!” Sam whined. 

“Fine! Go get snacks, you know where they are.”  

Steve and Bucky looked at each other for a second and then started laughing. 

* 

The second time they went on a date, it was a week after the first incident. Of course, they saw each other in between, but they weren't Dates™.  

They were watching a movie at the discount theatre and went to get pad Thai after, and Bucky thoroughly enjoyed it. Of course, things did not go according to plan. They were in Bucky’s apartment. Steve was resting on Bucky’s side and Bucky felt comfortable enough to openly knit in front of Steve. They were watching the new Le Petit Prince movie (Bucky was openly sobbing, which was kind of embarrassing) when Natasha and Clint walked in. 

“Whoa what's going on here?” She asked. 

“Let me guess, she has a key, too?” Steve asked, looking up at Bucky. 

Bucky let out an “uh-huh” and continued to sob. 

“Remind me to never listen to Bucky’s date night movie suggestions.” Steve said to Clint and Natasha who were busy taking pictures of a sobbing Bucky to post on their stories (both Snapchat and Instagram).  

“Sh-shut up, p-punk.” Bucky tried to say, only to sob loudly.  

“Jerk.” 

* 

The third time went way better.  

* 

It was the summertime. Bucky was busy with work and the band, and he thanked his lucky stars that he survived the year in university.  

Steve chose to spend the night at his place. They were lying down on Bucky’s bed, marathoning the Harry Potter series. Steve was cuddling into Bucky, and he thoroughly enjoyed the way Bucky played with his hair.  

“Hey, I just realized something.” Steve said during the dementor scene in the third movie. 

“What?” Bucky asked, threading his fingers through Steve’s hair. 

“I really love you.” 

Bucky snorted. 

“Hey, it took a lot of guts to say that, asshole!” 

“I’m sorry, it's just not the most romantic of moments but hey. I really love you, too.”  

Steve smiled, leaned up and kissed the corner of Bucky’s lips. 

Just like Harry, all was well. 

All was well, indeed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you so much for reading!


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